"How irritating… look at you. Such a pretty face, such clean, expensive clothes. Bet you're real popular with the ladies, huh? Never had to scrape and suffer a single day in your miserable life, have you?"
Gyutaro muttered in a venomous tone, scratching at the blotches on his face until blood seeped out.
"So jealous… I really want to peel that face right off. You dared to bully my only sister. I'll use these sickles soaked in my poison to carve your flesh away piece by piece!"
Faced with his deranged rambling, Rin merely lifted his foot slightly off Daki's head.
"So you've finally crawled out from your sister's behind. Ugh, that sounded wrong.. well, whatever."
Rin raised his gaze, and his pitch-black pupils began to change.
Hum~!
A crimson hue flooded his eyes, and within them, a complex pattern slowly formed—three tomoe intertwined with a six-pointed star, merging into a single design.
The Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan—activated.
The moment those eyes opened, the air on the first floor of Kyogoku House seemed to be sucked away in an instant.
An overwhelming pressure, beyond description, poured from Rin without restraint.
Gyutaro, who had been ranting and clawing at his face, fell silent at once.
His previously lifeless eyes widened sharply, and even the hand gripping his bone sickles trembled uncontrollably.
What… is this?
Gyutaro's heart churned.
As an Upper Rank demon who had lived for over a century, he had slaughtered countless Hashira and devoured the blood of powerful warriors. Yet the instant he met those scarlet eyes, every instinct in his body screamed a warning.
Run.
You will die.
You will absolutely die.
This soul-deep terror… he had only ever felt it in the presence of Muzan Kibutsuji.
"You're the one who injured Akaza near the Mugen Train?!" Gyutaro suddenly understood. This was the black-haired swordsman Muzan had warned them about through his blood—the one who wielded that strange lightning!
"Are all you so-called Upper Ranks this weak?"
Rin held the Kusanagi sword in one hand and walked toward him step by step.
The dull thud of his boots against the wooden floor sounded in Gyutaro's ears like a death knell, counting down his final moments.
"Don't get arrogant! Humans are still just humans!"
Suppressing the fear rising within him, Gyutaro let out a beast-like roar. His legs burst with force, shattering the wooden floor beneath him as he shot forward like a green blur.
"Blood Demon Art: Flying Blood Sickles!"
Swish, swish, swish!
Gyutaro swung his twin sickles wildly, unleashing dozens of crescent-shaped blades formed from his poisoned blood.
These blood blades were not only razor-sharp, but also laced with lethal poison. Even a scratch would be enough to kill a Hashira in a matter of moments.
Facing this airtight barrage, Rin didn't even slow his steps. The Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan in his eyes turned slowly.
Gyutaro's lightning-fast movements appeared sluggish in Rin's vision, as if slowed tenfold. The path of every blood blade, every droplet of poison in the air, was laid bare before him.
"Too slow."
Rin spoke lightly, the Kusanagi sword in his hand tracing a casual arc before him.
Clang, clang, clang, clang!
A rapid burst of metallic collisions rang out. Every one of the deadly blood blades was deflected with perfect precision. Not a single drop of poison touched his clothes.
How is that possible?! He didn't even use a Breathing Technique! Gyutaro's eyes widened in shock. This was his Blood Demon Art, yet it had been dismantled so effortlessly.
Before he could react...
Rin's figure slipped through the barrage and appeared right beside him.
"Your speed is far inferior to that idiot who only knows how to throw punches."
A cold voice sounded at his ear.
Slash!
The black blade, wrapped in faint violet lightning, swept upward in a diagonal arc.
Gyutaro felt a sudden chill in his right arm. In the next instant, the arm holding the bone sickle was severed and sent flying into the air.
"Gaaah!" Gyutaro screamed as he retreated violently, his remaining sickle swinging instinctively toward Rin's neck.
Rin didn't even look. He lifted his left leg and delivered a whip-like kick straight into Gyutaro's abdomen before the attack could land.
Bang!
Gyutaro was sent flying, crashing through multiple layers of wooden walls before being blasted out of Kyogoku House. He flew dozens of meters and slammed heavily into the main street, leaving behind a massive crater.
Dust billowed.
Rin rested the Kusanagi sword on his shoulder, stepped over the scattered wreckage, and walked calmly through the shattered opening.
Outside, the once-bustling street had been completely deserted. The pleasure-seekers had long since fled, leaving only rows of red lanterns swaying in the night wind.
"With just this much strength, you think you deserve the title of Upper Rank?"
Rin looked down at Gyutaro, who was struggling to regenerate his severed arm at the bottom of the crater, his expression filled with boredom.
This was the overwhelming power granted by the Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan. Without the burden of vision loss or physical backlash, even his casual attacks created an insurmountable gap.
Gyutaro climbed out of the crater and spat out a mouthful of black blood mixed with fragments of flesh. He stared at Rin approaching him, and the jealousy in his eyes had vanished, replaced entirely by desperate madness.
"You bastard… don't think you've already won! My sister and I are the invincible Upper Rank!"
His regenerated right arm gripped the sickle tightly, his poisonous blood surging as he prepared for a desperate fight to the death.
Rin stopped. The six-pointed star pattern in his eyes contracted slightly.
"Invincible? That's only because the ones you've faced so far were weaklings wielding Nichirin Blades."
Rin slowly raised his free left hand, his gaze locked onto Gyutaro.
"Today, I'll show you what it means to be burned to ashes… body and soul."
Hum~~!
The power in his left eye focused instantly.
"Amaterasu."
Fwoosh—!
Without warning, a cluster of eerie, ink-black flames ignited out of thin air on Gyutaro's chest.
There was no flicker of firelight, no surge of heat—only an absolute, destructive presence. The black flames clung to his flesh like parasites; the moment they touched him, they spread violently, as if fed with the finest fuel.
"Arrrrgggghhh!!! What is this?! It's so hot! I'm burning alive! Arghhhh!"
Gyutaro let out a scream of agony. He frantically tried to beat out the flames on his chest, only to find they couldn't be extinguished. Instead, the fire spread to his hands as well.
His prized regeneration became meaningless before Amaterasu. Newly formed flesh was instantly reduced to ash, regenerated, and burned again in an endless cycle of torment.
Under the inextinguishable black flames, the once-mighty Upper Rank Six could only roll and howl in pain across the street, like a demon condemned to the depths of hell.
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12 Advance chapters:Patreon/slept01